Rhinestones and Mockinjays
by Staccato Rhythm
Summary: She watches her love take her place on that stage, shuddering like a leaf with her eyes gazing outwards but seeing nothing, barely reacting when the name Dave Karofsky is called and they are made to shake hands. Brittana/Hunger Games.


**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. Don't own the Hunger Games.**

A/N: I've worked on this for _days_. I've never before read the Hunger Games (just read the second book a few days ago) but when I saw the movie I was floored. My legs were wobbly, my breathing erratic and my heart was pounding even the next day. And I just knew I had to write.

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Rhinestones and Mockinjays<p>

~.~

Brittany's heart stops when her name is called out by this strange looking woman from Capitol City—a place she's never been to before and previously had no hope of ever venturing out to either. It resonates like a shot in the air.

Brittany Pierce. Brittany Pierce. Brittany Pierce.

The entirety of District 12 stares at her in a chilling silence that cuts more than any blade or arrow she knows she'll face in the arena. When she turns her head she sees her mother begin to weep wildly and her father mutter a groan before crumpling against a friend for support. Jennifer, her older sister, and Hannah, their youngest, watch on in mutual horrific astonishment, looking as though the sound of their sister's name has delivered a blow that has rendered them utterly dumb.

Her friends stare at her. Quinn Fabray's lips tremble violently and her eyes fill with hot tears that spill over her gaunt but still beautiful features. Rachel is clutched to her side, looking degrees of relieved and distraught as they gaze up into Brittany's blank countenance. Relieved she is safe for another year (her last year—they will all turn nineteen this summer) but distraught that their best friend has been reaped. Meanwhile Brittany is a mask of pure serenity, as blank as a wall, while inside her emotions turn to chaos and make her blood pump like a mad dog on the hunt. Brittany takes hesitant steps forward, eyes trained on the stage where that dreadfully dressed woman urges her up with wild encouraging gestures.

"No!" someone cries.

Brittany turns, floored and petrified as Santana Lopez struggles through a barricade of Peacekeepers to reach her. At the top of her lungs she's screaming "I volunteer! I volunteer!" but this hardly means anything now. All Brittany is aware of is the livid flush in Santana's cheeks and the desperate mad panic in her eyes as she fights to take Brittany's place in a game that could surely kill her.

"Santana, don't do this," she implores in a low voice, the words lost among Santana's cries – begging to be heard, begging for Brittany's life to be spared.

"Please let me volunteer!" Santana wails. "I'll do it! I'll fight! Just please let her go!"

The woman on stage brightens like a new sun, hot and upbeat as she regards the flailing creature calling out to be heard. Santana is finally let through at her signal and Brittany finds herself held tight in quaking arms and kissed so fiercely - afraid it will be their last - holding back just as tightly and kissing back just as ferociously. Hot whimpered _I love you's_ erupt from bruised lips and _Please Don't Do This_ careens out of Brittany's mouth at random intervals.

Santana is wrenched out of her grasp and Brittany feels Quinn's arms supporting her as she collapses backwards. She watches her love take her place on that stage, shuddering like a leaf with her eyes gazing outwards but seeing nothing, barely reacting when the name Dave Karofsky is called and they are made to shake hands.

* * *

><p>They are given three minutes to say goodbye. Brittany ducks her head when Mr. and Mrs. Lopez pass on their way out of the holding room, the pair unable to look at the girl who has condemned their daughter to her death. When they're gone, crying and taking heavy labouring steps back to Mr. Lopez's practice, Brittany rushes inside the room that holds her girlfriend captive and springs into her arms.<p>

They kiss madly and without pause, trying to draw each embrace for as long as they can. One of them moans. Hands fist in hair and noses bump messily. When they break apart it is with deep panting gasps, flushed cheeks and the hint of tears in two pairs of heavily bloodshot eyes.

"Why?" Brittany says thickly. "Why are you doing this?"

"I couldn't watch you go through something like that," her love replies. She sits them down on a sofa and keeps her arms steadfast around Brittany's shaking frame.

"So you're going to make _me_ watch it?" Brittany bites out. "How is that a fair trade, Santana? Your life lost is my life lost. You _are_ my life. I can't let you do this – I'll go tell them that I acc—"

"NO!" Santana's booming tone makes her jump. "No," she says more gently, brushing a lock of hair out of Brittany's eyes. "You have Hannah and Jennifer and all of your friends who love you. I have no one but you and if I lose you I lose everything, Britt. If you lose me … you have so many people here to take the pain away. I would surely go mad if you died … I'd kill myself. I know I would."

"So would I!" Brittany whimpers. "I would. I can't live without you, San."

"I love you so much, Britt-Britt. I love you so, so much."

"_Santana_," she weeps.

"I'm going to try and win this thing," Santana promises in an undertone, kissing her gently and perfectly. "I'm going to try and come home to you."

"Come home to me," Brittany sobs, pressing her lips against Santana's and grasping desperately at her shirt when they hear the door click open. "Come home to me."

* * *

><p>Brittany doesn't watch the opening, though she's told Santana is a marvel to behold and faces the tumulus crowds with a dignity and grace unfamiliar to District 12 before now. Instead she tunes in for the interviews, eyes raking her girlfriends form and beauty like she is a starving man at a feast.<p>

Santana is breathtakingly beautiful as she steps out in her red dress and smiles her sweet fake smile at the audience and at Flickerman. Santana is petrified. Brittany can see her eyes darting everywhere, mapping out all the exit points on instinct because protecting Brittany from bullies all these years has taught her a thing or two. It makes Brittany so insanely proud of her girlfriend but so utterly ashamed too. _She_ should be the one worrying about getting out of this alive.

"Santana Lopez," Flickerman begins when they have taken their seats. "District 12's volunteer." He pauses and his eyes soften. "I have to say, we were all moved to tears when you valiantly and unselfishly took your girlfriend's place as tribute for your District. What was her name again?"

"Brittany Pierce," Santana says softly and the sound of her name on Santana's lips makes Brittany internally swoon; as it always does and always will.

"You love her?"

"More than you can even imagine." Santana looks at him frankly and a little sadly. The brutal honestly in her words floor him into a brief lapse of muteness.

He bows his head and the crowd hushes. "Were you able to say goodbye, at the end?"

She nods.

"What did you say to her?"

"That I would try to come home to her. That I would try to win this for her," Santana says stiffly, trying to smile for the cameras but ending on a grimace despite her best efforts.

The audience claps wildly, cheering for a girl they didn't even know the name of a few days prior, but who has now become their new favourite plaything – a delicious piece of gossip and news to agonize over. Brittany's fists clench tightly at her sides and Hannah lays her head gently on her tense shoulder. The action eases her, makes her heart release pent up anger in a heavy sigh. These people are barbaric – getting excited over a fight to the death. Enthusiastic to see 24 young men and women slaughter themselves.

"And is there anything you would like to say to Brittany if she's watching you tonight?"

Santana's face turns into the crowd – towards the camera's – and Brittany sees her swallow and her jaw tense. The skin around her eyes pulls tight with nerves and worry, fingers wringing fretfully in her lap as the entire world waits with bathed breath. Or at least it feels like it is.

"Brittany," she croaks out, tears spilling over her cheeks, "If I make it out of this … please marry me."

A thunderous roar of applause and merriment rise up from the audience at the admission and Ceasar Flickerman grins delightedly at this new piece of information that is sure to propel ratings sky high. Santana however is oblivious to all. Her eyes are wide with fear and emotion, looking lost and alone in the world, and Brittany bursts into tears in her family's arms as they huddle around her and try to fan what little spark of hope is left in her heart.

* * *

><p>Santana is ranked with a 7.<p>

It's not a bad number and Rachel, among others, often tells her to stay positive as the day draws nearer. But Brittany is beyond the point of positivity and well into the realm of hell and despair. She cannot eat, sleep or think without being riddled with agonizing thoughts of Santana all alone in an arena with people out for her life – all for blood-spattered sport and entertainment.

The entire District is sullen and pensive when _the_ day arrives. Brittany cradles tiny Hannah in her arms as the Pierce family congregate together to watch, and can almost not bare seeing Santana evade knife and blade attacks from the colossal District 1 and 2 tributes during the bloody massacre of Cornucopia. But her girl is fast and smart and she grabs a knapsack and sprints for higher ground as the bloodshed continues and twelve tributes (mostly youngsters) perish in the opening minutes of the game.

She's so proud of Santana and yet so terrified. These games have a habit of going bad and Brittany's not wrong. Mostly, the tributes are too busy killing each other off one by one to bother with Santana who evades them by climbing through the trees - a past time they used to enjoy immensely as youngsters in the forest growing up shooting wild game with Santana's Abuelo's hunting gear. However, she's spotted on the third day by the District 11 boy – Matt Ruthford – as she's filling up her canteen by the river. Brittany cries out as Matt charges at Santana with a knife and narrowly misses smashing her skull against the bedrock as they tussle for control. She whimpers with relief when the knife is lost in the confusion and they roll into the river.

What comes next will haunt them both for the rest of their lives.

Santana traps Matt in a headlock that Brittany's father once taught them so they could protect themselves at school, and submerges the boy's head in the water. He struggles intensely for a few minutes, thrashing and gurgling incongruously, before falling limp in Santana's grip as the girl pants and rapidly let's go of the dead body like it has burned her.

Brittany's eyes widen.

_She's … killed him._

A cannon shot resounds ominously within the arena and Brittany watches Santana shakily heave her throbbing body up onto the shore and empty the contents of her stomach before hurriedly pressing on, stumbling on wobbly legs. She's still alive Brittany reminds herself. It doesn't matter what she does to remain so, just as long as she stays that way. Just as long as she comes home.

Mr. and Mrs. Pierce are shell-shocked and urge the distraught Hannah to bed as the eight year old howls for 'Sanny' to come home. Jennifer swallows down the tears and holds Brittany tightly as they watch Santana find shelter in a dark cave and fall to her knees weeping for the life she took. Together they stay awake to hold vigil over Santana's restless form, hoping that she can feel them loving her, supporting her and praying for her.

* * *

><p>Several days later Santana suffers some injuries while trying to evade the remaining District 5 tribute Tina Cohen-Chang who wildly slashes at her with knives– a tactic the girl used to kill Dave off on the first day. Santana narrowly escapes being killed when, out of nowhere, the District 1 tribute Noah Puckerman, surges out of some bushes and decapitates the girl, giving Santana enough time to flee the scene and scamper up a tree.<p>

The injuries she receives are merely superficial and nothing that she can't patch up with some makeshift leaf bandages. But the crimson droplets leaking across her knuckles and fingers as she tends to her wounds make the knot in Brittany's stomach tighten until it feels like she can't breathe. Santana's pain is her pain. They are connected upon something fundamental and spiritual. Brittany would gladly swear upon the heads of her sisters that she has felt Santana's fear, tasted the copper taste of blood in her mouth after a fight and wept with longing for her love's arms and the comfort of warm eyes that soothe her soul. She's been in that arena every step of the way and has tried to send Santana all the love, comfort and praise that her frail underfed District 12 body harbours.

She hopes it has been enough.

Thankfully the remaining tributes die of natural causes. It makes Brittany feel sick to be thinking this way when there are families out there in other Districts deep in mourning. Still, better the tributes die at the hands of the elements than at the hands of some teenager whose sole purpose is to end their existence. Nature is merciful. Nature will give you the tools to survive if you look hard enough and _think_. That's what her girl's been doing all this time. Thinking—surviving—reacting.

But surviving comes at a price.

Brittany's heart aches for Santana when she watches her girlfriend count the number of cannon shots, sees her face harden and something in her eyes _shatter_ irrevocably when the fallen tribute names are displayed in the starry night sky. A few die of berry poisoning, one from starvation (a thirteen year old boy – the sight of his face in the sky makes Santana wince) and the remaining others from hypothermia and their own carelessness. Santana luckily has wormed her way into the good graces of generous sponsors (who love a good love story: The marriage proposal made scandal all across Capitol City and the other Districts) and she survives unpretentiously with a few sleeping bags and some rations of food for cases when game become scarce. There is no flash or glamour to her tactics. She simply does as she must to stay alive and no one in District 12 has had the audacity to fault her yet – not when they watch the Pierce girl pray through the night for her safe return.

* * *

><p>"She could actually win this," Quinn mumbles. And the resounding belief of the District is somewhat similar to Quinn's opinion.<p>

Brittany remains tight lipped, afraid of jinxing all of her love's efforts at regaining her rightful place at Brittany's side. Instead she watches like a ghost stuck in limbo, surrounded by all their neighbours, friends and relatives, as the District 1 tribute spies Santana applying some ointment to a nasty lizard bite in the middle of the forest. The creature had leapt at her as part of a hoard and Santana had barely escaped out of that skirmish with her life.

They're the only two left. Brittany wants to scream at Santana to turn around but she's rooted to her seat and can't seem to find her voice. Old man Xavier utters a curse under his breath and Quinn roars at him to shut up. Brittany's heart speeds up and she wills for Santana to feel her panic, her fear and her internal screams.

Alas, in vain. Santana neither hears nor feels Brittany's desperate pleas. Noah slinks up behind her – a dark panther on the hunt for the one thing standing in his way of winning this. He takes her completely by surprise when he lunges, that much is evident by the way Santana yelps, but she seems to find some unnatural strength and flips the boy over when he flays to grasp her in a death grip. And with the knife he'd been wielding – the one that clatters to the ground in his surprise at the turn of events – Santana stabs him repeatedly in the chest with inhumane screams of both terror and determination until his eyes roll back into his head and the last canon shot rings out.

Brittany remains motionless and lets her body be manhandled from person to person in congratulations and jubilee, scarcely able to comprehend that Santana has won. That Santana is coming home. That Santana is alive even though she can see her girlfriend sobbing and wailing at the monstrosities she has committed to stay this way.

It breaks Brittany's heart in two and makes her yearn to take Santana's place and be the one with all of this blame and the hellish memories on her conscience. It _should_ have been her in the first place. She should be the one wiping the tears with a bloodied sleeve and limping away from the dead District 1 tribute as the hover craft lowers to the ground to take him away. She should be the one having to pause to catch her breath before throwing up every last morsel of food she's ever eaten during her stay in this terrible place. It should be _her_.

But then a smile so wide graces her face through the salty tears when Santana raises her head to the sun and salutes the viewers at home with the customary District 12 symbol of respect, stating with a wavering but still sturdy voice "I'm coming home."

* * *

><p>The train pulls up and the doors swish open too slowly for Brittany's liking before Santana is standing there, looking beautifully broken but alive. Her hair has been washed and styled; her clothes are new and befitting of a Hunger Games champion; and her eyes are heavy with yearning and sorrow as they comb through the crowd before settling on the one person she's looking for.<p>

The crowd parts like the red sea when Santana steps forward, eyes trained on Brittany—unwavering and resolute. Jennifer nudges her forward with a calm smile full of understanding and suddenly Brittany is sprinting forward and Santana drops all of her bags on the floor and crushes the blonde girl to her, sobbing and pressing desperate kisses across her face. When they break apart Hannah demands for Sanny to hug her in her little bossy voice and Brittany turns into Quinn's arms to cry because all of this is too good to be true. Santana lavishes kisses in her little sister's hair and lets Jennifer embrace them both so that they are stuck in an odd pale and tanned limbed tangle.

"We're so glad you're okay," Jennifer murmurs.

Santana smile is splintered but warm. Jennifer pries Hannah off of the Hunger Games champion so that her parents can envelope her and thank the heavens she has been brought home amidst a flurry of caresses and tears.

Santana makes the rounds of neighbours, friends and relatives who all clap and cheer with relief—throwing their arms around the girl and congratulating her on a job well done (like what she has done was as simple as casting a line out to sea and reeling in a fish). But then she moulds herself to Brittany's side and refuses to stray, one arm wound tight around Brittany's thin waist and pressing erratic kisses to the girl's temple at every opportunity. Brittany welcomes the fierce attention with delight, basking in it and pressing the same desperate affections against her girlfriend's trembling lips.

"You're home," Brittany murmurs with awed wonder. She can scarcely believe it.

"I am." And by her tone, Brittany figures Santana can scarcely believe it either.

* * *

><p>They stay the night at the Lopez's house and curl up on the too small rickety bed, staring at each other. Brittany is petrified that if she blinks Santana will disappear in a puff of smoke or be wrenched back to the hell she has escaped from. Santana is just so undeniably overjoyed to be in the protective embrace of Brittany's arms that she tries to commit every shadow and dip of her girlfriend's face to memory.<p>

They let their lips skim and press to be just that bit closer. Santana sighs when Brittany traces the shell of her ear with a pale finger.

"Were you afraid?" Brittany asks, shifting so that the moon illuminates her features like a ghostly entity.

Santana's gaze flicks between two pools of shimmering blue. "Yes," she whispers.

Brittany's breath hitches at the saddened pull of Santana's lips and the faraway look in her eyes. Like flashes of everything she's seen are replaying like an old movie in her head. Torturous scenes in slow motion. Her allies and enemies slaughtered like animals. Tina Cohen-Chang beheaded. The bloodbath of Cornucopia. The thirteen year old District 8 boy she happened upon, dying of starvation and unable to even swallow the piece of bread Santana had tried to feed him.

"Did you feel me?"

Brittany's heart thrills at the fact that she knows she doesn't have to explain herself.

Santana kisses her gently. "Always."

"I'm glad."

In the middle of the dark night Santana stirs and Brittany wakes in time to see her girlfriend moan and scream. She doesn't know what to do to soothe her and backs away frightfully when Santana begins to twist in the bed sheets and lash out at an unseen attacker. She hits the back wall before Mr. and Mrs. Lopez run in, fearful faces scarcely comprehending what sort of torment their daughter is going through.

"NO!" Santana roars, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"What's happening to her?" Brittany demands shrilly above Santana's shattering screams.

Mr. Lopez doesn't heed her in any way. He jumps into action and holds his trashing daughter down as she arches off the mattress. Santana's so tightly clenched that Brittany can see the veins at her temple and neck bulge with the strain. Sweat is pouring off her and her breathing is coming out in harsh pants in between screams. She keeps repeating _No, No, No_ in a heartbroken sob of pain.

Unexpectedly she opens her eyes and pulls her fist back before smashing it into her father's face. Mr. Lopez groans in pain and releases Santana who regains her senses rapidly thanks to the sting of her hand and jumps out of bed to apologise.

Mrs. Lopez smooth's her thick hair back and kisses her forehead, whispering that it's 'okay' and they 'understand'. Mr. Lopez merely laughs the punch off by telling her she hits like a girl.

"That's because I _am_ a girl," Santana responds to the jibe half-heartedly, sounding like that seven year old who used to scuffle with the boys on the playground.

She turns and immediately scans the room for Brittany. Her eyes darken when she sees her girlfriend braced against the back wall.

"Britt-"

"I … Santana … what did you see?"

"Bad things, baby. Bad things."

It's their first taste of what the rest of their nights will be like.

* * *

><p>They take to sleeping in a big dog pile at Brittany's house in the coming days – Hannah passed out across their fronts and Jennifer curled up behind Brittany's back. The presence of the three Pierce girls keeps the nightmares at bay most nights and Brittany knows Santana is grateful beyond comprehension.<p>

She lets Hannah burrow in the crook of one shoulder and Brittany in the other while holding hands with Jennifer who acts as their guardian through the night, minding them all against the terrors they can't see. They can't count the amount of times Jennifer has nursed Santana through a nightmare until the champion fretfully stilled within the confines of Brittany and Hannah's arms, the two girls none the wiser to what had transpired.

But they all know this can't carry on. Jennifer won't always be around (there are rumours flying around that her boyfriend Wendell wants to propose) and everyone knows with a cast-iron certainty that it's only a matter of time before their Hunger Games champion gets down on her knees to ask for the Brittany girl's hand in marriage. When that happens everyone expects them to move into a house in the Victors Village. Alone.

So, these little sleepovers have an expiry date and they know it.

They haven't talked about what will happen in the next few weeks. Santana hasn't brought up marriage again either, except for that one time during the interviews, and Brittany hasn't wanted to be clingy but _god_, if she isn't burning to be Santana's wife. Now more than ever; only she doesn't know how to bring it up.

"Britt?"

Brittany tilts her head slightly to look into Santana's eyes, half-lidded from sleep. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Have you talked to your parents about moving out yet?" her girlfriend says and then then freezes when Hannah mutters against her neck in grumpy slumber.

"No, not yet. Why? Were you thinking of moving soon?"

"Well … yeah." Santana blushes in the dim light. "You know, we'll have to anyway. Because of that thing. That thing I said I'd do. T-to Ceasar. Remember?"

Brittany chuckles; knowing full well what she means. But sensing Santana's apparent discomfort on the subject she'll let it pass for now. At least she now knows that her girlfriend has every intention of marrying her. She just needs a little more time.

"We'll talk to my parents tomorrow," Brittany promises as she snuggles into Santana's side.

"Will you guys please shut up," Jennifer grouses from behind them. "Some people need their beauty sleep."

"That's the understatement of the century," Brittany huffs and squeals in indignation when Jenifer pinches her arm smartly.

"Ah," Santana sighs happily amidst the sister's sudden bout of bickering as she melts into the mattress and the comfort of Brittany's embrace. "It's good to be back with my girls."

* * *

><p>They move into their new home exactly two weeks after Santana's return to District 12. They bask in the new luxuries but mourn familiar comforts like the squeaky door in Brittany's old room and the leaky tap in the Lopez's kitchen. Friends come around to gawk over all the amenities; the phone, the hot water … the warmth. But, despite all these new extravagances, Brittany rapidly makes the space their own with familiar trinkets from both their households hanging on the mantel piece of the fire place and along the walls elegantly.<p>

Yet … still no proposal.

Still no ring on Brittany's finger.

Still the same nightmares every night.

They're both exhausted from them. Santana looks like death has been carved into her with a knife – her features are sharply prominent and haggard looking as she regards their many visitors with vague interest – half lost in her memories and dreams. Brittany's hands shake terribly whenever she tries to mend one of her sister's shirts or Santana's slacks, too worn-out from their sleepless nights to do any task properly. Yet she tries to play the role of welcoming housewife, of supportive partner who can take whatever is thrown at her. Everyone knows she's about to crash.

Santana is in the living room reading when it happens. Brittany's been on her last legs for several days now but kept going, kept toiling at her work for Santana's sake who has looked ready to pass out herself for weeks. Santana hears a clang in the kitchen and jumps to her feet, calling out to her girlfriend frantically.

She finds Brittany on the kitchen floor, unconscious.

She kneels next to Brittany form, tears seeping out of her eyes in a way that's too familiar, thinking of the boy from District 8 and also how she can't lose the light of her life now that they're safe and together. She shakes the blonde a little, checking her pulse and feeling blossoming relief when she feels a sound pulse.

Santana scoops Brittany into her arms and walks her to the bedroom, laying her down and tucking the covers over her fatigued frame. She kisses the top of her head and makes a decision.

When Brittany comes to she can't remember where she is. It takes her a moment of blinking, stretching and yawning before she realizes she's in her bed and still in her work clothes from this morning. The house is eerily silent when she pads through the hallways and she searches for Santana, calling out her name softly and touching every piece of furniture on the way to ground her.

She jumps when the front door opens and voices float in.

Santana and her father are at the front door kicking off their work boots (they have learned their lesson since the scolding Brittany gave them about marking the new floors) and hang up their jackets while chattering in low friendly tones. Santana's head snaps up when she feels Brittany's presence and a large concerned smile appears on her face.

"Sweetheart?" she says gently, "Are you feeling better?"

"I … I don't know," Brittany replies in a small voice.

Certainly she feels amply rested. Like she's slept for days but it has come at a price. Her muscles are stiff and her head is foggy with headaches.

She folds herself into Santana's welcoming embrace and receives her kiss readily.

"You've slept all day, my love," Santana whispers. Her tone is suddenly grave. "We've been in a bad way for a while, huh?"

Brittany nods. "We'll get better," she reassures, stroking Santana's firm biceps.

Her girlfriend nods. "Of course we will. I brought Dad. He said he could give us some medicine to make us sleep a little more easily."

Mr. Lopez smiles at them both before slipping out of the hallway into the kitchen to brew some tea. His absence makes Brittany feel bolder, less like a child, even though she has just turned nineteen and will marry his daughter any day now. She reaches for a desperate kiss, soothing the hysteria she felt upon waking without Santana in the vicinity.

Santana reassures her with soft strokes of her tongue and the smacking weight of her lips. She fastens her arms around Brittany's waist at the same time that Brittany frames her face with her shaking hands, fingers drawling intricate patterns across her love's cheeks. It's the first time since Santana has come back that they've been so close and intimate. So tightly wound and in tune. When Santana had first returned from the Games it had felt like she was always three steps ahead – lost in a sea of blood only she could see. Now they've re-synched. Reconnected.

All Brittany wants to do is make love to her.

* * *

><p>They have to wait. Santana's father shows them the pills (straight from the Capitol with compliments from Mercedes, Santana's stylist) that will make their nights more bearable before he bids them adieu with kisses and promises to call around tomorrow evening with the whole family.<p>

There's a beat of silence when the door closes after him. Then –

Brittany launches at Santana, hoisting her into her arms and carrying her straight to the bedroom as they kiss messily and desperately. Moans and groans tumble from bruised lips. Pleas and sighs erupt from two aching souls wanting to be touched.

Santana undresses her girlfriend with reverent affection, repeating how beautiful, kind and perfect she is. Brittany smiles down at her, all demure and love stricken as she dips her head occasionally to catch a wayward kiss meant for a collar bone.

Brittany lays Santana down, pressing butterfly kisses across her face and smirking into her jaw line when she feels the rumble of her name caught in her girlfriend's throat. Without preamble she sinks two fingers into the quick of Santana, eyes pinching shut at the paradise of her girlfriend's warm velvet centre pulsing around her fingers and Santana's arms wrapped tightly around her neck and Santana's kisses pressing urgently to her cheek …

She has to take a moment.

Santana is here, in her arms, alive and loving her and whispering about how good Brittany feels inside her between I Love You's that scorch her soul.

She moves slowly, building a rhythm that has them panting and keening against the other's touch – lips pressed to necks moistening against hot breaths.

"Britt," Santana moans brokenly, "_Right there_."

She uses her hips as leverage as she drives her fingers in and flicks a hardened nub with her thumb, whispering how beautiful and perfect Santana is in her ear. Moments later Santana's walls constrict and her mouth opens in a silent scream of pleasure as she grips to Brittany frightfully, wanting to be closer and safer.

In the glowing aftermath she and Santana cry in relief when they press tender kisses against each other's hair line.

* * *

><p>They've got a routine down now. In the morning Brittany will clean the house while Santana practices her Victory Talent – carving violins. A Luthier from the Capitol recommended by Mercedes had come down to live with them for a few days to show Santana how to play and make the instruments. Brittany loves to hear Santana's faltering notes in the air as she busies around the house preparing breakfast and picking up after her slob of a girlfriend.<p>

After Santana has carefully put her violin and tools away and the Luthier has headed back to the Capitol, the couple walk hand in hand to the butcher and the baker's to buy the day's provisions, stopping to chat to their neighbours and friends. They try to spread their money out as much as they can now that they have more than they know what to do with. They buy six loaves of the Berry's bread and buy any squirrel's that Sam Evans and his siblings have caught in the forest.

In the afternoons Brittany will make lunch while Santana disappears with Jennifer and Mrs. Pierce on errands and when they come home, Brittany will be in the living room with Mr. and Mrs. Lopez chatting about the local gossip. They'll kiss and hold hands as the two families mix and laugh together and Santana will have that look on her face that she wears religiously nowadays – pure bliss. Brittany will kiss her reddened cheek and nuzzle under her jaw and only get up to answer the door to Santana's mentor Quiev, who spends most of his time in District 1 with his wife but habitually checks up on them to make sure they're both okay.

They've carved a life out for themselves. Straight from the ashes of what was broken in the Hunger Games arena. Santana is a damaged but painstakingly mended individual thanks to Brittany. They are stronger together and even with the looming threat of the Victory Tour on the horizon they are inseparable.

"She'll make a good wife someday," Quiev says to Brittany with a gentle knowing smile while Santana is in the kitchen brewing up some tea for their guests. Brittany arches an eyebrow at him in question but agrees.

Meanwhile, Hannah sits in her lap and giggles as she plays with the pin Santana purchased for Brittany last week. It has a mockingjay on it and Hannah's taken a perverse interest in the thing. Something tells Brittany she'll be relinquishing it to her little sister in the coming weeks and that Hannah will keep it hidden in a little box she keeps under her bed for precious things. Just like how Brittany keeps Santana's tribute token in a small jewellery box on her bedside table (a small blue rhinestone passed down the Lopez family since before the birth of Panem even).

When their family's and Quiev leave at sundown with promises to catch up tomorrow, Santana and Brittany spend the evening watching stupid Capitol fashion programmes on their TV while Santana fiddles with her carving knife and a sheet of wood she hopes will become her first violin.

It's safe. It's domestic. It's everything they didn't think they'd have when Brittany's name was called out during the reaping.

* * *

><p>When Brittany wakes the next morning Santana is staring at her. Their noses are brushing and a loving sigh escapes Brittany when Santana smiles.<p>

"Good morning," she husks around a kiss.

She makes to break away so they can start their day but Santana holds her fast and she smirks into a few more lingering touches. Santana is cuddlier than usual today. She might as well make the most of it.

Rolling atop her girlfriend Brittany lets a hand palm down the front of an eager Hunger Games champion before grinding to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widen until they're as round as the moon and her mouth falls open a little, breath caught in her chest. Santana's mouth is pressed close to her ear, tickling her earlobe, while her hands are framing Brittany's jaw to keep her in place.

"_Brittany_ …" she whispers and the tone of her voice sends shivers down the length of Brittany's spine.

"Marry me," Santana murmurs and both of their eyes close. "Marry me, Brittany."

Santana kisses her ear and rubs her thumbs soothingly over her cheeks. Her smile is small, frightened but full of love. Brittany bites her bottom lip as she nods, scarcely able to comprehend that she will be Santana's wife.

"Yes," she says thickly, swallowing down the sudden onslaught of emotions. "_God_ yes, Santana."

They kiss and kiss and make love and whisper yes' at each other's lips. Santana detangles herself from pale limbs in the early afternoon to retrieve the engagement ring in the pocket of her jacket and Brittany cries when she sees that it's Santana's tribute token. The blue rhinestone set on a platinum band that Quiev must have brought from District 1 yesterday. That would explain his knowing looks.

She wears it proudly and murmurs how much she loves Santana, how beautiful and perfect she is and how lucky Brittany is to have her.

"Not half as lucky as I am," Santana replies seriously as they nuzzle and stare at the ring adorning Brittany's finger.

Predictably entire camera crews arrive at their doorstep that evening and Santana's fashion team beautify them for their interview in record time. They glow with pride as they're asked about the date of the wedding ("After the Victory Tour", Santana says) about the ring (they show it off proudly) and if the idea of children has been brought up yet ("We want some," Brittany affirms as they exchange shy smiles. Santana clasps her fiancée's hands in her own with a proud grin. "Maybe we'll make a trip up to the Capitol soon with a donor.")

"Your soon-to-be wife is a natural at this interviewing business," Mercedes says to the couple with a calm smile once the camera crew has vacated their home.

Santana shares a fond glance with Brittany. "She's pretty amazing alright."

Mercedes crosses her arms as they all settle on the armchairs and couches in the living room. There are no refreshments, only the flask of whiskey Mercedes always carries with her placed on the table. Santana's hand lies in Brittany's lap and their eyes meet once when they notice Mercedes' sobriety.

"You know that if you two ever have children there is a greater risk of them being called to be tributes because of their lineage." This is more a statement than a question and Santana takes a deep breath as Brittany freezes.

"We know," she says briskly.

"Do you also know that citizens of the Capitol are never called for a reaping?" Mercedes continues.

The couple nod.

Mercedes takes a swig from her flask and takes a deep breath. "That's why I would like to cordially invite you to take residence in the Capitol permanently. Brittany can be my assistant and you can keep doing that violin thing you do. Your kids will never be reaped and I can insure you your sisters and future brother-in-law will be taken care of, Brittany."

"H-how?" Brittany squeaks, a world of possibilities rushing through her mind.

"What's the catch?" Santana hisses. She's learned from her time in the arena that everything comes at a price.

"No catch," Mercedes says gravely. "I'm doing this because I like you Santana. The entire time you were in my care your greatest thoughts and fears were for Brittany and how she was coping at home. I don't think I could take watching the two of you agonise over your child's fate." She pauses and wipes at her tinted blue eyebrows and eyelids. "When we arrive all you need to do is keep your head down. Don't antagonise anyone and you'll be fine."

"Why do I get the feeling that President Snow wouldn't be too thrilled to hear this?" Santana spits.

"He knows," Mercedes replies austerely licking the alcohol off her lips. "But the Capitol _likes_ you Santana. News is buzzing that you're coming to live among them and they couldn't be happier. He can't work against popular opinion."

Santana rushes to her feet startling Brittany and making Mercedes' eyebrows pull. "I WILL NOT BE A PAWN IN HIS GAMES AGAIN!"

"You're not!" Mercedes swears. "You won't be! You'll be one step ahead of him like you were in that dreadful arena! Santana, think of your kids! Think of the babies you and Brittany will have one day. Do you want to be one step ahead of that … _man_," she scoffs vindictively, "or do you want to be at his mercy, watching your kids names be picked out of a damn fishbowl?"

They're both on their feet – staring and breathing heavily, fists clenching and unclenching as Brittany's eyes fill with tears.

"Santana," Brittany implores brokenly and when their eyes meet they both understand that the safety of their future kids hangs in the balance. And they both know that, when it comes down to it, they will always choose the path that will protect their family and each other.

Santana lets out a heavy breath. "Okay. We're in."

* * *

><p>They move and take Hannah, Jennifer and Wendell with them. Their home in the city is an apartment at the top of a building with a balcony that overlooks a wide park. It's nice, luxurious and, more importantly, out of the reaches of President Snow.<p>

After Santana's Victory Tour they choose one of her cousins as donor and Brittany gives birth to a beautiful little tanned blue eyed girl they call Rhine (after the Rhinestone) four months after their wedding. At first Santana wants to call her Jay for the mockingjay pin she gave Brittany all those years ago but Hannah had since given the little pin to one of her friends and for the life of them they couldn't find it again.

More Hunger Games pass. More tributes die. Santana continues making her violins and Brittany helps Mercedes' successor design her various outfits. Rachel Berry becomes Mrs. Fabray, wife of Quinn Fabray one of the District 12 teachers, and they live their lives in modest comfort. In the Capitol more Lopez children are brought into the world; Fender and Anna. They are made aware of their Mama's past and are brought up to despise the Hunger Games and everything it stands for.

Santana Lopez is quickly forgotten as a District 12 Victor and melts into the Capitol crowd as one of their own. As a sponsor. A business woman. A face in the crowd.

It's when they sees Katniss Everdeen and her mockingjay pin at the Victor's crowning of the 74th Annual Hunger Games that Brittany gets a glimpse of that frightened little girl Santana used to be, the one who volunteered for her girlfriend all those years ago. Her wife's face shows horror and pain and the memories of the lives she took.

Brittany and Santana hold hands and stare at the two petrified District 12 tributes who can't believe they've escaped such a hell, and that's when they make up their minds.

Fender, Anna and Rhine stare at their mothers in silent understanding.

The Lopez's will join the resistance.

* * *

><p>AN: The fic is also on my tumblr blog which you can access via my profile. Come say hi too if you're so inclined.


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